Bowling Greens

Friday

Sep 6, 2013 at 11:14 AM

A while ago, we were invited to a garden party where bocce ball was played.

Virginia Rea

A while ago, we were invited to a garden party where bocce ball was played. Having, to my knowledge, and much to my regret, not a drop of Italian blood, and being the least athletically inclined person I know, not to mention never having played the game before, I fully expected to be immediately eliminated from the competition, and so paid little attention when the rules were explained.

For any of you unfamiliar with the game, bocce ball involves throwing out a small wooden ball, called the jack, onto a lawn, and then trying to get your large, colored balls as close to the jack as possible. A simple game, really, and not one involving much athletic prowess, I thought, although I suppose it's really a challenge, if one is actually trying to play well, as the lawn is uneven, and the balls can hit a divet, a lump, or a hole, and bounce in entirely the wrong direction. You play in "teams" of three or four people, but I use the term "team" loosely, because the point of the game is really to eliminate your teammates from the game as quickly and ruthlessly as possible by knocking your teammates' balls away from the jack with yours, and substituting your ball for theirs next to the jack. Well, I suppose it's actually a lot more complicated, really, and involves much strategy and skill, but as I said, I wasn't paying a lot of attention.

Now, I am not really a competitive person, primarily because I come into any game prepared to lose, as this is invariably what happens, especially if physical or mental activity of any kind is required. In fact, the last time I bowled at all, I was in my teens and was talked into bowling at an actual bowling alley by my best friend; I'm not sure why, as neither of us had ever bowled before. She distinguished herself by forgetting to let go of the ball and flinging herself down the alley, still attached to the ball, while I became overbalanced on my backswing and fell over backwards, also still attached to the ball; we were asked not to return any time soon.

On this particular day, it was about 104 degrees in the shade, and as I am not fond of heat, the thought of standing around in the sun throwing heavy balls across the grass was not my idea of a good time. I was determined to lose as quickly as possible so that I could return to the shade and drink iced tea, or pour it over my head, whichever felt better – maybe both. I therefore simply followed instructions and stood where they pointed, tossed the ball heedlessly in the general direction of the jack, when I could see it, and went back to stand in the shade.

The first round was a real nail-biter: everyone in my group won once, which meant we all had to play again until someone won again in a sort of sudden-death arrangement. I can tell you, there was going to be a sudden death from heat stroke if it didn't end soon. To my shock, I was informed that I had won the first, appropriately named, heat. This meant I had to advance to the next round, a thought that did not fill me with joy as it further delayed my retreat into the shade. I determined to concentrate on aiming away from the jack and so lose quickly. Unfortunately, it appeared that the more I aimed away from the jack, the closer I got to it. I decided to just toss the ball without thinking about it at all or aiming for anything, and to my dismay, advanced to the third round.

Now it was really getting hot, and I had run out of strategies of any sort. I tried aiming for my opponent's ball and not only missed it entirely, but again got closest to the jack, much to my chagrin. I was telling my husband I would be joining him shortly when a small crowd gathered around me to announce that I had won that round, too. Good Lord, I thought, gnashing my teeth; would the torture never end? And how the devil did one lose this game, anyway? No, I was told; I had actually won the entire game! I retired to the shade in bemused triumph, clutching my prize: an artistic toaster.

The very next day, I came upon a fat, sluggish gopher snake in the road, and while all snakes are, as far as I am concerned, potentially poisonous, even when I know they're not, and as I recognize that they have their place in that whole circle of life deal, I decided it would be better for him (and for my nervous condition, as I had nearly stepped on him and was still trying to get my breath back) if he were to move off the road and back into the grass from which he had sprung, I decided to toss rocks at him – well, small pebbles, really – in an attempt to get him to comply with my grand life-saving design. Not one of the pebbles I threw in his direction came even close.

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